Newsosaur

I got to have dinner the other night with my aunt, my uncle, and this guy.

We talked about a broad variety of subjects including religion, porn, socks, wealth, revenge, and of course, the state of journalism today.

It made me think, what do more of people my own age think about the state of journalism? Do most of us think about it? I believe that if tomorrow all newspapers disappeared, most of us would feel it. We'd miss the touch of newspapers, the physicality of the information and images. I can't argue against the power and scope of news on the internet, but I think we've arrived at a disconnect between us getting our information and actually appreciating where it comes from.
Reporting - actual journalism, people - takes time and *money*... Until the last decade plus, the sale of newspapers and advertising fed that need. But now, since everything is a click away and they stopped making us pay for it, they are quickly going out of business.

So what do we do? I know I've thought a lot about it, and I know there are smarter and more powerful people thinking about it and actually trying to do something. Inevitably newspapers as we know them cannot last. I really really really hope they can figure something out though so I can still sit with a paper on my lap as I sip coffee. That is one of my true pleasures. In fact as I flipped through the New York Times this morning I actually got excited to spend some quality time with it later because every single cover story was one I wanted to finish. It's going to be a treat sometime later in the day.

Every day as I acknowledge how much smaller the paper has gotten I send out a silent wish. "Please save yourselves, newspaper people. We'll pay as soon as you start making us. Love, Caitlin."

Mother's Daughter

Who would have thought that Mother's Day would be so full of almost-crying moments for me?

Very early this morning in the car I was listening to NPR as they closed one of their shows by announcing who did what (for example "This show was executively produced by Ona Motapia") but instead of saying their own names they said Daughter or Son of their mother's name. It took about a minute to do all the credits like that and I laughed first then got all choked up. And I know it wasn't just because I was up before dawn on a Sunday because that's par for the course these days.

Mid-morning I made the Mom Day phone call to the home base in Wisconsin, chit chatted with Daddy for a few, who then passed the phone to my sweet little mother. Most of our conversation consisted of talking about re-doing the windows of the house and spring allergy attacks, but at some random unexpected point in the conversation I had to take a moment of deep breaths so I didn't burst into tears. Not that crying on the phone to Mom is totally out of the ordinary, but it doesn't usually happen when talking about weather/home improvement.

Earlier this evening I was again listening to NPR as I worked on my very slow-going needlepoint project, and I caught the tail end of a story which consisted of a grown son who was given up for adoption speaking one side, and his biological mother speaking on the other. It was the story of him finding her and greeting her for the first time, and when the woman spoke of the feeling when the child that she had given up walked up to her to "initiate a hug" I choked up and once again had to reach for the kleenex.

I don't have kids and I'm not expecting them anytime soon, so the multiple teary-eyed moments caught me a little off guard. Maybe because as I'm watching more and more of my friends and contemporaries have kids I can relate more closely to parenthood? Maybe because I recently realized for the first time that I do indeed want to raise children one day?

Maybe because deep inside I'm just a little girl who really misses her Mommy.